Self Care
by maturebel
Summary: Annabeth Chase, alienated from her family and with no sense of belonging, turns to the drugs and alcohol that finally land her in Hera's Home for Troubled Youth. Just when she feels that her life couldn't possibly get worse, a new doctor shows up at the home; one with sea green eyes, messy black hair, and more secrets than he's letting on. (Cover art by Viria)
1. Chapter 1

**Annabeth**

I tap my foot impatiently on the white marble floor. I hate the shoes they have me wear here - they remind me of hospital shoes, shapeless and white. Nothing here is really great. Another wave of resentment for my dad rises up in my stomach, making me sink my nails into the crescent shaped cuts already etched into my palms. _It's for your own good, Annabeth,_ he'd say. But it's not. Not really. It's what he thinks I need.

More people begin to show up; everyone has scowls ingrained into the lines of their faces, and we all have to wear the same white cotton shirts and pants. Apparently my dad paid a fortune to have me admitted into here. Anything to keep me away, I suppose.

A new girl shuffles in, purple rings beneath her eyes. She slumps into the chair next to me before turning towards me. "So. Is this place really as bad as it seems?" She looks like the kind of girl I wouldn't have liked much at school - long, wavy brown hair, big brown eyes, and gorgeous caramel colored skin. Even in the standard clothes and looking like she hasn't showered in a week, she could walk a runway.

I sigh. Social life doesn't exist here. Not much does. "Well, if you like talking about your feelings and being treated like you're five again, this place is fabulous," I reply dryly.

The girl cracks a smile, revealing perfectly straight white teeth. "I'm Piper," she tells me. "I'm telling you that because everyone else I've tried to talk to has done nothing but bullshit me."

"Annabeth," I reply, just as the circle is completed.

And by the circle, I mean 9:00 AM talk session. Let me paint you a picture - seven chairs arranged in a sad circle in one of the randomly empty rooms at _Hera's Home for Troubled Youth._ Seven _t_ _roubled youth_ sitting in said circle, glaring at each other and wishing they could be anywhere else. And of course, the queen Hera herself seated in the middle of the circle like a preschool teacher at storytime. We're her first group of the day. She'd never say it, but I overheard some of the orderlies talking about how we were the _high risk_ group. High risk, my ass. We're the group who paid the most to be sent to this hellhole.

"Good morning," says Hera in her infuriatingly calm voice. She smiles at the circle, turning on her spinning stool so she can look at all of us. Her eyes have always reminded me of honey - slow and warm and golden brown.

Nobody says anything. She purses her thin lips before they twist back up into a tranquil smile. "Let's start with the usual." She clears her throat and smoothes her hair around her tight bun. "I'm Hera. I'm 46 years old. And today, I'm feeling like I could accomplish anything." She ends her usual cheesy statement with a wide grin, flashing her slightly coffee stained teeth. I swear, I'd be rich if I printed out all of Hera's sayings and put them on inspirational posters.

The circle remains silent. I catch Piper's eyes and she rolls them dramatically. I decide that I like her.

"Annabeth," I jerk my head up. Hera has her eyes fixed on me, her artificial smile never faltering. My nails find their mark again, and I feel a bit of blood well up around my right pinkie finger.

"I'm Annabeth," I begin dryly. "I'm 17 years old. I feel fine." I can't help but to curl my lip a bit at the end.

Hera tilts her head in mock sympathy. "And how are you doing? Holding up without all of those toxic drugs and alcohol?" She surveys the circle. No one meets her eyes. "It was a pretty disastrous combination," she reminds everyone. I grit my teeth.

"Fine," I manage to get out. She smiles.

"Good. Next?"

"I'm Leo. I'm 15. And I hate this fucking place."

" _Language."_

"I'm Jason. I'm almost 17. And I'm good."

"I'm Hazel. I'm 14. And I feel tired today."

"I'm Frank. I'm 16, and I'm good too."

"I'm Nico."

Hera lifts an eyebrow at the sudden silence. "And how old are you?" I frown. She already knows all of this. It's a mindless practice.

"15."

She doesn't bother asking how he is. He wouldn't answer, anyways. "Next?"

"I'm Piper. 17. And I can't wait to leave." She flashes a dazzling smile around the circle.

Hera frowns for a second. "Thank you, everyone, for those introductions." Her face resumes it's usual state again, the frown melting away like snow on a hot day. "Now let's begin."

* * *

"Is it always that bad?" I look behind me. How Piper found me, I have no idea - but there she is, standing behind me. She's rolled the waistline of her pants up and unbuttoned more than a few of her top buttons on her shirt.

I pat the bit on the roof next to me. It's the only place I really like here. I have roof access from my window. It's supposed to be locked at all times; as if I couldn't pick a lock. She sits next to me. "No," I admit. This morning was pretty brutal.

Piper groans and dangles her feet off over the gutter. "So. Annabeth. Tell me how you landed here." She closes her eyes and tilts her head back so the sun illuminates her face.

"Well, I lived with my dad and his new wife and her two kids. Real brats. They spoil them. Anyways, he'd always kind of wanted to get rid of me. He had me when he was 19, and my mom left me with him before disappearing. I've never met her." I scowl out across the back lawn. It would be a pretty view if I didn't hate this place so much. A marble fountain, a white gazebo, a garden full of strawberries surrounded by tall fences. You'd never guess this place was an hour away from New York.

"Anyway, as he started caring less and less about me I spent less and less time at home. So I started smoking. And drinking, every night. Then I started finding different kinds of pills. You know, trying to find the kind that would work for me." I turn to look at her. She still has her face towards the sun, but nods for me to continue. "Then one day, he found some of the pills in my room. Dug a little deeper, found my cigarettes, my liquor stash. Next thing I know, he's dropped me here and hasn't tried to reach me since."

Piper opens her eyes and turns to me. "Fucked up," she says. "What he did," she adds, unnecessarily.

"What about you?" I ask, genuinely interested. I never talk to anyone here. Don't exactly have any friends. I've never been good at making them, anyways.

Piper laughs. She has a pretty laugh, loud and clear like running water. "Oh, the classic tale. Poor little Piper McLean-"

"Wait, McLean?" I interrupt. She can't mean _the_ Piper McLean, daughter of Tristan McLean. Half of the movies I've seen have had him in them.

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah. Tristan McLean's daughter. Anyways, as you can probably guess, he's away a lot, and he always leaves me with his awful assistant. So it was getting harder and harder to get his attention. So I went to a car dealership, and I went on a few dates with the manager." She pauses. "I often dated guys who were a lot older. Dad never noticed. Well, in return, I convinced him to give me a car. A few days later, he freaked and told me to give it back. I said no, just to be a bitch, and he called the police on me. Then it's on the news that Tristan McLean's troubled daughter stole a car. So he sent me here."

"Wow," I say, unsure of what else I could respond with.

She cracks a small grin at me. "So we're both fucked up. Good. I need a friend who's equally as fucked up as I am so I don't feel so bad about being like this."

I laugh a little. I haven't laughed since before I got here, a month and a half ago. "I could use one too," I admit.

"So tell me." She leans in on her elbows. "I want to know about all of those other poor _troubled youth_ in our little group of screwed up rich kids. Especially that Jason. I've had every flavor of boy but vanilla."

I grin. "Well, I'm not even sure how Jason could ever be bad enough to get in here. Supposedly, he had some memory issues at school. Like, he got in this accident and had short term memory loss for a while. Some kid was messing with him, saying he knew things he'd forgotten but wouldn't tell him. Jason's crazy ripped. He started beating up on this guy and put him in the hospital. Then, I guess he came here."

Piper pouts a little. "Wow. I thought he'd be a bit badder. He's still cute though. What about the others?"

"Leo is a classic case of hyperactive freak. He burned down his high school 'on accident.' Hazel stole some expensive jewelry and was selling it off at school. She's a total kleptomaniac. Never turn your back on her if you can help it. Frank was, for some reason, helping import illegal wildlife for his estate. Weird. Oh, and Nico? He never talks."

She groans. "A bunch of crazies and a good boy."

"Pretty much."

"And then us," she replies.

I nod. "And then us."

Silence grows between as as we both look out over the garden. "We eat dinners in our rooms," I tell her.

"I'm sneaking into yours," she replies.

"Okay."

"Excuse me?" An unfamiliar voice sounds from behind us. An orderly is staring out of my room, eyes wide. Again, we aren't supposed to be on the roof. Oops.

I exchange an exasperated look with Piper and we drop back into my room. The orderly sighs. "I won't tell Hera. Just don't do it again." He smiles faintly. "Head back to your room, okay? Dinner's in five minutes." Piper flips her hair and strolls out of the doorway, shutting my door behind her.

I sit on my bed and lean back against my pillows. I could really use a cigarette. Or a beer. Or anything, really. I decide to humor the orderly. "Don't suppose you could get me a cig, huh?"

He pulls up the chair at my unused desk and sits on it. "I wish I could, but I think I'd get fired."

I survey him. He must be new here. I've never seen him before. He looks young, maybe 22 or 23. His dark hair is messy and makes him look boyish. But his eyes...they're the most brilliant shade of sea green. He wears the typical orderly uniform, a dark blue button up and black slacks. _Percy_ is stitched in white on his shirt.

"You new here, Percy?" I ask. His name sounds satisfying when I say it out loud.

Something flickers in his eyes - doubt? He nods, and the look is gone. "Yes. I've been assigned to your room."

I sigh. "Wow. Lucky me. I'm so high risk that I've gotten my own orderly? I really must be the luckiest girl on Earth."

He smiles. I didn't expect him to. "Can I call you Annabeth?"

I almost say no, but I definitely don't want him to call me Miss Chase or anything corny like that. "Sure."

"Well, I'll go if you want me to. But I think it would be...beneficial if we got to know each other. You can trust me."

"Can I?" I challenge.

I notice his fingers tighten around a leather cord around his neck, one with a few clay beads strung onto it. His hand falls and the necklace disappears back beneath his shirt. "I'm not going to tell Hera that you were on the roof. And I won't lock the window."

There's a knock at the door. "Come in," Percy calls.

A different orderly brings me breakfast and a small cup with white tablets in it. "What are these?" I ask flatly.

The orderly deadpans, "Antidepressants. Hera has decided that you need them." She turns and leaves the room.

"Has she now," I mutter to myself. I set my dinner on the bedside table and pop the pills in my mouth, swallowing them dry. Maybe if I pretend they're something else, I can convince myself that they are.

"You should eat," Percy says.

I eye him strangely. "We'll see."

The ghost of a laugh tugs at his mouth. "I'll see you tomorrow...Annabeth." He gets up, slides the chair back into place, and leaves the room. As soon as my door closes, I grab my glass of water and down it quickly before falling back into bed.

That night, I dream of nothing but white pills, warm caramel skin, and eyes the color of the ocean on a hot day.

* * *

 **Hope y'all like it! I've never really written a Percy Jackson fanfic before so I hope this is on par with the standards here. If you liked it, drop a review, I'd really appreciate some feedback!**

 **Of course, I don't own Percy Jackson, yada yada. I own nothing but the plot.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Annabeth**

I wake to the sound of the phone ringing. Groaning, I lift my head from the pillow, wiping the corners of my mouth which have gone tacky. My vision, obscured by rough blonde curls, clears with a swipe of my hand. Percy, the orderly, awkwardly holds the noisy device out towards me.

I lift the receiver. I miss my cell phone. "Hello?" My voice sounds thick with sleep.

"Annabeth. It's so, so nice to hear your voice again." Of all the voices I wouldn't want to hear on the other end, my father tops the list. Him and his new wife, and the two little brats. Them and the mom who abandoned me and never looked back.

I don't say anything, so he continues. "Listen, honey, I know you're a little bit mad, but we were thinking maybe you could come home for a day or two. I've already talked to Hera about it, so if you want to you can."

"Why would I want to?" I snap into the phone, knowing I sound ungrateful and bitchy but not caring in the slightest.

He sighs. "Annabeth, it's a just a few days. Your mother and brothers miss you."

"They're not my brothers. And she's not my mom."

"Annabeth, you're being childish. And 'she' has a name, that you should be using."

I scowl, even though he can't see me. I can feel Percy's eyes burning into the side of my head and shift moodily on the sheets. "If you want me to come home, I will, but I'm not coming back here."

He pauses. "Okay," he finally says. "I'll come up and get you this afternoon. I love -" I hang up before he can finish the sentence, slamming the phone so hard onto the stand that the whole thing tumbles off of the bed and lands with a crack on the tile floor.

Percy lifts an eyebrow. "Trouble in paradise?" I shoot him a look.

"If this is paradise, you may need a brain exam." I run my hand through my hair, fingers snagging on knots. I pull them out halfway through, softening a bit. "No, my dad wants me to come home. He's getting me today."

"I should pack, then." I eye him strangely.

"Why?"

He stands, brushing invisible dirt from his pants. "Hera said you might be going home for a bit. She said an orderly has to go with yo, and since I've been assigned to you, it's me." A dark look crosses his face when he says the word 'orderly.'

"Oh," is all I say.

His lips pull in. "I could drive us. So you dad doesn't have to."

I think about it. Either an awful hour in the car with Dad, plus traffic, or a silent and less awkward ride with Percy. "Okay."

"I'll let him know." Percy pushes the chair back to the desk and leaves the room, casting an awkward half-smile at me before the door clicks back into place. I jump out of bed, wincing as the impact of my feet on the tile sends pain prickling up my shins.

I shrug my shirt off over my head, pull of my pants, and grin at myself in the mirror. "I'm leaving," I tell my reflection, and I swear to God, the girl in the mirror winks.

Maybe I am crazy.

The door opens quickly and I jump back, realizing I'm only wearing my bra and underwear. _They don't even match,_ says the annoying voice in my head. _Pink and white, Annabeth? Really?_ Percy stands in the doorway, his face beet red. "I'll...I...come back...later," he stammers after a few seconds, his eyes suddenly flicking up the ceiling. Wear were they before? I smirk. He's blushing up to the roots of his hair.

"No, it's okay. What's so urgent that you burst in here like you have the Minotaur chasing you?" He dutifully looks me directly in the eye.

"Your father knows about the driving arrangement," he says mechanically, and then turns and closes the door as fast as he possibly can. It slams shut, rattling the few things adorning the surfaces in my room. I burst out laughing as soon as he leaves.

Maybe this car ride won't be so boring, after all.

* * *

"Call me," moans Piper, crushing me in what feels like the thirtieth bone-crushing hug. I awkwardly pat her back.

"Of course I will, Pipes." She pulls away and grins at me.

"Can't believe my little Bethy is growing up sooo fast," she croons, pinching my cheek. I slap her hand away, but I'm grinning. I really will miss Piper.

A beat up looking sedan pulls up behind me with Percy in the driver's seat. Piper bends down to look inside. "Damn, Annabeth, is that your dad? If so, I want to come over."

I laugh. "No. That's the orderly they're sending with me because I am _severely troubled_ and _need supervision._ His name is Percy."

She throws her arms around me one last time. "I'll miss you," she says into my hair.

"You too." We separate and I pick up my backpack off the ground, slinging it onto one shoulder as I turn to get in the car.

"Ready to go?" Percy asks. I nod, dropping my backpack by my feet. Piper waves goodbye out the window as we pull away from the home. I can't say I'll miss it.

The inside of Percy's car is messy. Like, really messy. There's a pillow and a couple of blankets stuffed into the backseat, a stack of old magazines, and a framed picture of a pretty middle aged woman. I pick it up, being the nosy bitch I am. "Who is this?"

He glances over, and his eyebrows pull together. "My mom," he says. I nod, even though he doesn't see it. I turn to look at him while he drives. He really doesn't look any older than 24. His messy hair is black and shiny, like a crow's wings. His eyes are the kind of green the sea is on the hottest day, ringed by enviable dark lashes. He has an angular nose that would look odd on anyone else but fits him well. His lips are slightly chapped and full, the kind that make you want to stare. He turns his head towards me and flashes me a cocky grin.

"What are you staring at?" I lift my chin.

"I wasn't looking at you."

"Sure."

I smile at him before looking out my window, nestling my head into the seat belt and falling asleep.

* * *

 **Percy**

She makes no sound while she sleeps. The only thing letting me know she's awake is the slight rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathes. A stray curl has tumbled over her face, and sways with each small exhale from her slightly parted lips. I reach over and gently tuck the curl behind her ear, running my fingers down the smooth lock.

She doesn't wake up. Chastising myself, I turn back to the road. My fingers grip the steering wheel until they turn white. The image of the road falls away as my memory pulls up a different image - Annabeth, defiant with her arms crossed, long legs and tan stomach bare. _Stop it,_ I tell myself. I clench my jaw. My fingers tingle, and I pretend I can still feel her hair between them.

She sighs in her sleep, and I use it as an excuse to look back over at her. She has sharp features mixed with soft, gentle ones. Her high cheekbones slope delicately to her eyes, giving way to her slightly pointy nose and full lips. I wish her eyes were open. I can't decide if they're light blue or gray.

My throat closes when I see the picture of my mom, smiling and healthy, from my eighteenth birthday two years ago. The last time I saw her was last month, on my twentieth birthday - stuck in her hospital bed, wires and machines plugged in and whirring. I hate hospitals, doctors, all of it.

And naturally, I get to be one. Well, sort of. Mom calls orderlies "soft doctors."

I shake my head. I need this job to pay her medical bills. "Nuh-nuh-no," whimpers Annabeth in her sleep. I turn to look at her, but she doesn't speak again.

The strap of her thin white tank to slides off of her shoulder, dropping to rest at her elbow. I lightly grasp the soft fabric and slide it back up her arm. Her eyes flutter open and she lifts her head.

"Already trying to undress me?" she says in a spunky, sleepy voice. A shiver runs down my spine when her eyes connect to mine. Gray. Her eyes are definitely gray.

I snort. "I'm sure you'd love to think that," I retort. In the back of my mind, Hera is yelling at me for thinking about Annabeth, for talking to her like this. _Hera's not here. She can't see._

"We're close," Annabeth says, and when I look at her she seems worried. Her hands are clenched and she's biting her lip. I let my eyes linger on her lips for a second too long before turning back to the road.

"Are you nervous?" I ask, unable to hold my tongue. I'm ADHD. Never been good at it.

She gives me a quizzical look. "None of your business," she snaps.

I must look hurt, because she continues. "Sorry. Yeah, a bit."

I nod without saying anything, not trusting myself to look back at her. The navigation beeps and blares directions in a robotic female voice. We drive in silence, only broken by the mechanical voice, until we pull up to Annabeth's house.

Or should I say estate?

It's a giant gray and white stone house with a circular driveway complete with a white marble fountain set back on a rolling green lawn. Trees line the road to the house, swaying delicately in the breeze. The air smells like freshly cut grass and wealth. Rose bushes bloom robustly in front of the house, and a set of stairs leads up to the wide double front doors. "Wow," I say.

She scowls. "It's impressive until my dad lives here."

I park the car where Annabeth tells me I can, in front of the large, five car garage. Apparently, all of the spots in the garage are full. My old car looks shabby and out of place next to her mansion.

The front doors swing open to reveal a man who must be Annabeth's dad. He doesn't look anything like I thought he would. He's a thin man in brown slacks and a blue striped button up, only half tucked. He had black loafers and slightly messy salt-and-pepper hair. His face held a wide grin. Behind him comes a pretty older Asian woman with red hair and two boys with their father's dark hair who looked around ten years old.

"Annabeth!" He calls, holding out his arms for a hug.

She eyes him carefully. "Hi, dad." She doesn't take the hug. He puts his arms down and turns to face me. "Who's this?"

I extend a hand, which he shakes. I've always hated shaking hands. It never feels sincere. "I'm Percy Jackson, the orderly assisting Annabeth while she's here. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Chase."

"Please, call me Frederick." He gestures to the woman and children, who stand behind him, staring at Annabeth likes she's an alien. "That's my wife, Lucia, and our two kids, Matthew and Bobby. Boys, say hi to Mr. Jackson."

"Call me Percy," I say automatically. I hate being called by my last name. The two boys, looking entirely like hey'd rather be doing anything else, slouch up to me.

"I'm Bobby," says the taller one. "I'm 11."

The shorter one elbows his brother out of the way. "I'm Matthew and I'm nine." Losing interest, they turn around and go back inside. I glance back. Annabeth is busying herself with her backpack's straps.

"Hello. So nice of you to come with Annabeth, to keep an eye on her." Lucia extends a hand to me, and I shake it awkwardly. "Make sure she doesn't go out past nine, and doesn't do anything undesirable. She'll have a bad impression on the boys." I decide I don't like her the second she talks about Annabeth likes she's not five feet away.

"Nice to meet you," I say quietly. Annabeth pushes past me and goes into the house. I follow slowly, suddenly realizing how she must feel here; trapped in what most kids would cal paradise, with no way out.

* * *

 **Next chapter will be...interesting (insert slightly evil laughter here). Annabeth's eighteenth birthday is coming up, so you can expect some birthday drama to go down. More on Percy's backstory, too.**

 **More characters from the book will be making guest appearances in the story as it goes on, so keep reading to see who will show up.**

 **Again, don't own characters, just the plot.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Annabeth**

I twist my fork in the pile of salad on my plate, my appetite gone. I was hungry when I got here, but now, not so much. Dad grins at the head of the dining table, sickeningly happy with the shitshow he calls family. Lucia lifts her head, eyes alight with icy interest. "So," she drawls. "Percy. Tell us how Annabeth is doing."

 _As if I don't even exist. As if I'm not_ right here, _in this room._ I scowl and feel the instinctive tightening of my fingers, feel my nails sink back into my palms. Percy looks up from his chair to my right, looking uncomfortable, to say the least. He probably didn't know what he was signing up for when he said he'd come here. I almost feel bad for him. "Well, you can ask Annabeth. She's right here," he says thoughtfully, with a hint of steel hidden under the words.

I shoot him a small smile. "Yes, Lucia. Why don't you ask me yourself?"

If looks could kill, I would be dead. "That's mother to you," is all she says, in her dangerously calm voice.

The rest of dinner is silent.

I retire to my bedroom after the hellish meal and sink down onto my bed. It looks exactly the same as I left it - books scattered across the floor, clothes draped over the back of the desk chair, the bed unmade and shoved up against the window. Everything is happening so fast.

With a sigh, I lean back against the pillows. What happened to me? What made me like this? I turn my head and bury it into the pillow. Something crinkles beneath my cheek. Frowning, I sit up and reach inside the pillow case. My fingers meet something crunchy and pliable. I pull it out.

A plastic bag dangles menacingly from my fingers, four shiny white pills siting innocently at the bottom. My hand shakes and the pills fall onto my blanket. A shiver runs down my spine. _Take them,_ whispers the voice in my head, _they make everything better._

I open the bag and shake a single pill into my hand. It sits in my palm, at the center of the marks my nails have driven through the skin. I realize that my cheeks are wet and drop the pill back into the bag to wipe the moisture away. A labored breath shakes on the way out of my mouth.

Why am I crying? I don't even know. I stand up. I need a shower. My bathroom looks the same too; my towels hang, soft and white, against the soft blue walls. My soaps are still lined up where they were when I left. I shut the door, making extra care to lock it, and turn on the shower. A cascade of steaming water flows to the floor. I stare at myself in the mirror. It's hard to even recognize the gaunt girl staring back at me. I used to look into this mirror every morning. Back then, my eyes would be lined with black, my hair straightened, my lips stained with a slutty red. Now the girl who looks back is washed out and scared, with eyes too big for her face and messy blonde curls. _This is you, the real Annabeth Chase._ I wish I could turn off the voice in my head.

I step into the shower, letting the scalding water run down my scalp and over my shoulders. I sigh. Nothing is turning out how it should. I should be sitting in a booth at my favorite diner with some disposable arm candy, sipping at my classic cherry cola. Instead, the crazy, institutionalized Annabeth is here, pathetically crying in the shower.

I grab my shampoo and violently work the foam into my hair, pulling out several strands in the process. I ignore the sharp pinches from around my head and wash the soap out. I try my hardest to focus on washing my hair and not on the feeling in my chest, like I'm drowning.

I finally turn off the shower and step out, wrapping myself in my towel. It's soft against my skin. I let my hair hang limp and wet around my shoulders. A spark of anger thrums through my chest. "I hate myself," I tell the girl in the mirror. Her lips, cracked and dry, move along with mine. I frown at her before I leave the bathroom, not bothering to change into pajamas. I retire to the bed again, avoiding the bag of pills next to my pillow.

There's a soft knock on the door. "What?" I snap. I'm not in the mood for another insufferable father-daughter talk. The door opens and Percy pokes his head in, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

He lifts an eyebrow. "Should I come back later?"

I feel my voice soften as I continue. "Oh. You can come in."

He walks into the room, shutting the door softly behind him, and looks around awkwardly before I pat a spot on the bed next to me so he can sit down. He looks nervous, and keeps pushing his palms up and down his legs, the way I do when I'm anxious. "I'm sorry," he tells me.

"For what?"

He sighs and looks at me. Even in my unlit room, his eyes are bright and green and swirling. I could look into them for hours and not get bored. _Where did_ that _thought come from?_ I clear my throat.

"I didn't realize how it was for you. Here."

I feel the tension in my muscles begin to fade as a small smile begins to work its way onto my face.

* * *

 **Percy**

She must have just taken a shower. She smells overwhelmingly of strawberries and soap, and her hair hangs in a damp curtain around her face. Oh, not to mention the fact that she's wrapped in nothing but a white towel. I try to avoid looking at her much.

"It is kind of tragic, huh?" She snorts. "Rich girl problems, I guess. Other people have it worse, I know. There's just something wrong with me."

She has a challenging look on her face, like she almost wants me to agree just so she can scream at me when I do. "There's nothing wrong with you," I say, choosing my words slowly and carefully. "Everyone has their demons."

"What about you?" she asks, leaning back against her pillows. _What about me?_ My brain struggles to extract meaning from the words, distracted by the one tendril of hair that has begun to curl again.

"Oh," I choke out. "What do you mean?"

She tilts her head to the side. "What's your sob story?"

I laugh a little. Should I tell her? Something in me wants to. No one knows about it but Grover, my best friend. "Well..." I trail off. _Tell her,_ says Grover's voice in my head. Or maybe it's just me, looking for an excuse to. "I only did two years of college. The minimum to get hired as something like...well, something like an orderly. I would have done something else. Studied something else. But I needed money to pay my mom's hospital bills. She's got cancer."

Annabeth looks into her lap. I follow her gaze. She's twisting her hands together. "I'm sorry," she says softly, her voice unusually unlaced with poison. "I didn't know."

"Well, it's not something I talk about much," I admit. Annabeth reaches forwards and wraps one of her small hands around one of mine. My breath catches in my throat and I look up, surprised. She's looking at our hands.

"How old are you?" she asks.

I answer slowly. "Twenty."

"I'll be eighteen in a month."

I reach forwards and turn her hand over so her palm is up. Four red crescents mark her palm. I run a finger over them and she shivers. "Annabeth," I say, and can't bring myself to say anything else. Her hands are smaller than mine, and cold. She has long, thin fingers and unpainted nails cut short. Practical hands, hands that are meant to be holding a pen or flipping the page of a book.

"How is your mom? Because if it's money you need, I can help you." She doesn't look at me as she speaks. Her large gray eyes stay trained on our joined hands.

I feel a stab of guilt shoot through my chest. "I can't take your money."

She squeezes my hands. "You can. And you will." She finally lifts her eyes to meet mine. Her eyes are the color of rain clouds right before it rains. Usually narrowed with sarcasm, they're wide and sad. I can't respond. My throat has closed up.

Annabeth runs a finger over my knuckles and shifts a bit closer to me. "I'm sorry. Because I must seem so ridiculous, crying over my life when yours is so much worse." Her breath tickles my cheek. I become aware that her face is roughly five, six inches away from mine. The air between us buzzes with electricity.

"No. I understand," I tell her. She tilts her head, lifting her chin, and her hair falls away from her shoulders, uncovering the smooth, pale skin of her neck.

She leans forwards, and her lips brush my ear when she speaks. "You're supposed to listen to me. But I want you to know that I can also listen to you."

"I'll keep it in mind," I whisper back, my head buried in her blonde hair. It smells sweet, like soap. She leans back, but not far. Our noses are almost touching. I can see her eyes in perfect detail, from the pale lashes that ring them to the flecks of silver dotting the stormy gray.

She leans in again, and our lips brush with the slightest touch. "Annabeth!" yells Frederick, and we jump apart, our hands retreating from each other's. I quickly stand up and glance over my shoulder at her. She nods slightly at me and I leave the room, my heart hammering in my chest. _What just happened?_

I hear their voices through the wall and can't help but to listen. "What do you mean I'm going back tomorrow? You told me I was coming home for good!" Annabeth is yelling, and she sounds close to tears.

"Sweetheart, it's for the best." Frederick sounds solemn.

"Get the _fuck_ out of my room!" Annabeth screams. I hear fast footsteps and Frederick leaves the room, looking tired. He nods at me in silent greeting and disappears through a door down the hall.

I look through the cracked door to Annabeth's bedroom and see her, clutching the towel around herself, rocking herself forwards and backwards. I watch in silent anxiety as she reaches behind her, produces a pill, and uses a glass of water to wash it down. A dribble of water runs from the corner of her mouth, collecting below her chin and running lazily down her collarbone before disappearing beneath her towel.

I turn away from her door, feeling a guilty tingle in my hands. I can't get the picture of her out of my mind, the ghost of her lips brushing mine, her hand's soft pressure in mine.

She's addictive, and I've just had my first hit.

* * *

 **Hope y'all liked the chapter. I don't have time to edit so...I apologize for all of the spelling/grammatical errors you just had to experience. My bad. Next chapter we'll be heading back to the Home, so be prepared for some _drama!_ **

**Just kidding. Maybe.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Annabeth**

I quickly shove as many of my old clothes as I can into bags. Not for me. I'm not the kind of person who'd wear thigh high boots or pearls anymore. Piper, however, will love the clothes. I finish the abrupt packing and dig my hand under my mattress, finally finding what I'm looking for. My fingers graze smooth glass and I pull the bottle out. A full, beautiful bottle of vodka. I twist the cap off and tip the bottle against my lips, letting the bitter drink fill my mouth. I haven't had alcohol since before the Home, so it burns my throat on the way down, causing me to choke.

I sit on my bed, not bothering to do anything with my rumpled clothes and messy hair, and wait for the world to go out of focus. It usually takes about twenty minutes for the alcohol to do its job. I swallow another mouthful, and lean against the wall. I can't get the memory from my mind, from last night. Percy sitting on my bed, his fingers flitting nervously across my hand, like he's afraid of breaking me. His lips, so close to mine that if I'd even leaned forwards the slightest bit, he would have been pressed against me.

Even now, just thinking about it, a jolt of nerves runs down my spine and burns in my stomach. _You did that,_ I think miserably. _You made that happen. What's wrong with you?_

Just for the hell of it, I set two pills on the back of my tongue and wash them down with the vodka.

I look down at the bottle. It's almost half empty. Scowling, I tuck it into my backpack of belongings along with my bag of pills, a hairbrush, my phone (which I'm really not supposed to have), and a few packs of cigarettes I found. My head is beginning to spin a bit. Good. I need an escape.

My door swings open. Dad stands in the hallway just outside my room, beaming at me. "Ah, you're packed, huh Annie? Lovely. We'll take it out to the car." He grabs the bags of clothes I packed for Piper and leaves the room. I slip my backpack onto my shoulders and follow him, letting the bag thump between my shoulder blades with each stomp. He is in the process of stuffing my bags into the back of Percy's car. I scowl. _He means nothing. He is nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing._

Dad turns back to me. "I'll visit soon. You'll be home again soon enough." He smooths my hair, like he used to do when I was little.

"Goodbye," I tell him, and turn to the car, sliding moodily into the passenger seat. Percy sits in the drivers seat and turns the key. He's sitting up perfectly straight, and his eyes stay dutifully trained on the road ahead. Great. He's probably scared of me, or hates me, or both. Spoiled little rich girl who hates everyone, but not as much as she hates herself.

The first half hour is pretty awkward. He fiddles a bit with the radio and asks me what I want to listen to. I tell him that I don't care.

After that, we sit in silence. My head begins to feel wonderfully spinny, and I lean my head back against my seat belt, letting it support me. Everything around me shifts and whispers and twists in ways I can barely keep up with. I find that my eyes have landed on Percy. His green eyes are bright, so bright, and his hair lifts around his head like he's underwater. He's not, of course. It's a silly thought, so I laugh.

He turns to look at me. "What's so funny?" he asks, and his voice sounds far away and up close all at once. A shiver runs through me as I remember the feeling of that voice tickling the hair and skin at my ear. A fire ignites in my stomach, and my hands begin to sweat.

"Nothin-ing," I slur unconvincingly. I shut my eyes and bask in the blissful feeling of the high I've missed all of these cold turkey months at the Home. The car lurches to the side, or maybe it's just my imagination.

"Annabeth," his voice sounds different. What does it sound like? Worry? Sadness? Anger? I can't tell.

I shake my head. "Nuh," I say back.

His hand closes around my wrist, his long fingers slipping over my skin. My eyes flutter open. He's pulled over to the side of the highway. "Why are...we...stopped?" I ask him. I look at his hand on my forearm and a pang goes through my chest.

"What did you do?" He shakes his head. "I saw you...the pill, last night. Did you take more?" His eyes are so green. The color of precious gemstones that used to adorn my jewelry box.

What did he ask again? Pills. Something about them. "They're good," I tell him. Maybe he wants some too.

Percy recoils, his hand leaving my wrist. It feels suddenly very cold. "Annabeth. I thought you wanted to get better," he says quietly.

 _Better? "_ Yuh-huh-uh," I respond, my lips too clumsy to form a better response. Better, better, better.

"You can't do this to yourself!" His voice is loud now. I turn my head to look at him. He looks agitated, I think. That or very, very surprised. I reach out a hand and find his.

"N-no, you don't get it," I tell him, but I forget what it is that he doesn't get.

He sighs. "Annabeth, I can't bring you back to the Home like this. When does it wear off?"

"Dunno," I tell him. Never, hopefully. If I'm lucky, this soft world will never go away, and I'll never have to live in the harsh world again.

Percy stares at me for a moment, looking incredibly bothered. "We'll wait it out," he says.

Or at least, I think he does.

* * *

 **Percy**

Her blonde curls are unbrushed and float around her face in a fuzzy halo. She looks peaceful, her face devoid of all expression except for calm. Her sweaty hands move clumsily in my lap until they find mine. I should pull my hands back, but can't bring myself to do it. My fingers wrap around hers on their own. She smells like alcohol and cinnamon.

"P-Percy," she slurs, and her voice sounds smoothly disconnected. I stare back at her.

I don't want her to be like this. I want her to be better. I want her to...what do I want? I want... _I want her,_ chimes in the voice in my head unhelpfully. _I want to hold her, and kiss her, and-_ I stop the train of thought quickly before it has the chance to escalate. "No more pills," I tell her.

"No?" She sounds amused. The calm look goes from her face suddenly, replaced with a white mask. She stares at me. I look at her, at those big gray eyes. Her voice shudders on the way out. "Did you...you w-want to...?"

A tremor runs down my spine. "Want to do what?" I respond carefully.

"Kiss me. Last night," her voice is strangely clear. My throat goes dry. My memories, the ones I told myself to forget, the ones that can't ever happen again, flood back. Annabeth, wrapped in a towel, her lips against my ear, her lips hovering before mine.

I let out a strangled noise in the back of my throat. The next word jumps from my lips before my brain has time to process what I'm saying. "Yes." I quickly amend my response. "I won't though. I'm sorry, it's so wrong, it's all my fault."

She hums a bit. "W-why?" When I don't respond, she lifts her hands and grasps my face, letting clumsy fingers slide along my cheekbones. I want so badly to lean into her touch, but I can't. Not when she's drunk, or high. Not ever. She looks me straight in the face.

"Kiss me, Percy," she says. My mind flits over the possibilities; I could lean in, pull her lips to mine, feel the addictive pull of her in my mouth the way I almost had last night, feel her thin form through her shirt, feel her soft curls in my hands, feel _her._ But I can't.

"Annabeth. It's not right," I tell her. Her fingers drop from my cheeks to the neckline of my shirt. She slips her thumb into my shirt and traces my collarbone with her soft fingertip.

She leans across the center console. "Please," she sighs. I take her small hands in mine and gently pull them away from me, even when my senses scream for me to do the opposite. She surges forwards, grabbing my upper arms and pulling herself onto my lap. I turn my head so I don't have to look her in the face. Not when her face is inches from mine. Her lips press to my throat, to the side of my neck, clumsy and excruciatingly slow. I stifle a groan that rises in my throat.

"Go back to your seat," I say, and it's my turn to have an unsteady voice.

She breathes out heavily against my neck. "Why?"

"Because we can't do this," I tell her, and it sounds more like a question than a statement. She giggles against my neck, her fingers running painstakingly up my back to pull at the hair at the base of my neck. "Annabeth. You're drunk. Go back to your seat."

She huffs out and slides back into her seat, curling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "Fine," she says, unnecessarily. She fumbles for her seat belt and clicks it into place.

I start driving again, hoping that the drugs won't last so long that she'll be obviously high when we get to the Home. Hera would probably fire me. No, she'd definitely fire me. "No more pills," I tell her again.

She doesn't reply. I look over at her. She's fallen asleep, her mouth slightly open. I feel a small smile tug at the corner of my mouth, but no matter what, I can't make it leave my face. I turn back to the road, hoping she doesn't remember what she did when she wakes up. It would be awkward at the best. And I don't even think things could get _more_ awkward than they already are.

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, my brain keeps cycling through the possibilities of what could have happened had I done what she asked. She wanted me to kiss her. But I can't, and I won't. The radio begins to play a soft, tinkering song that sounds almost melancholy. _Tell me, I'm your baby, and you'll never leave me..._

I turn into the driveway of the Home, not wanting to wake up Annabeth. She sighs in her sleep and her lips form words that don't quite reach my ears. _Whisper, that you love me, that you'll never leave me..._

I gently shake her shoulder and she wakes up, and all I can think is that she will be the death of me.

 _Be mine for always, I'll be yours forever..._

* * *

 **Oops, sorry, it's been another nothing chapter full of absolutely nothing.**

 **I'm on vacation right now, so there are probably all kinds of mistakes and stuff in here. Oh, well. I gotta soak up the sun while I'm here. It's been freezing where I live, and now I'm in a place where it's sunny and 80 degrees Fahrenheit every day - it's kind of crazy!**

 **Anyways, it's cheesy, but whatever.**

 **The song on the radio is _Tell Me_ by Johnny Jewel. It's one of my favorite songs and I recommend it to all of you.**

 **Thanks, as always, for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Annabeth**

Piper wraps me in a hug. "I love, love, love you!" She lifts a pair of gray silk shorts from the bag of my old clothes and smiles adoringly. She casts a winking eye at me. "I have a lot to tell you."

I grin at Piper. "Honey, me too." A pang of nervousness shoots through my stomach. How am I supposed to explain what happened over the weekend? How do I say anything about Percy? _Hey, so you know my orderly? Well, I kind of almost kissed him._

Piper and I exchange a look over the breakfast table. We sit at our own booth in the Home's dining hall, untouched plates of wheat toast sitting between us. She quirks an eyebrow at me and I glance at Hera. She speaks, her voice soft. "Okay, everyone. It's quiet reflection time."

Piper and I grab the bags of clothes and hurry up the stairs into my room. After dumping them on the bed, we climb out the window onto the roof. She sighs as she stretches back across the hot tiles that have spent the morning baking in the sun. "Spill," I tell her.

She shoots me an impish grin. "Okay. So, last night there was this meteor shower. Jason knew about it somehow. He's kind of nerd cute, you know? Anyways, I told him I could get us up to the roof, and we came up here. And we watched the meteor shower." Her smile widens.

"And?" I inquire impatiently.

Piper laughs, a light and airy sound. "He asked me if I wanted to dance, and he had this little crank radio. So he started playing music and we were dancing...and then, he just leaned in and kissed me." She sighs and stares off across the green.

"I knew it!" I clap my hands together in front of me. Piper and her fiery spirit and confidence is a perfect match to Jason's (mostly) kind heart and accepting attitude.

She looks back at me again. "He's different, you know? All the guys before him...well, they were mostly older. They'd take me out, show me around, stick with me for a night or two. Never even remembered my name. But Jason, I think he actually likes me. Like, _really_ likes me."

"That's great, Pipes," I say, and I mean it.

She looks at me expectantly. "Now, your turn. What shitshow went down while you were at home?"

My mouth goes dry. Now that I actually have to talk about it, I can't. "It's not about my family."

Piper rolls her eyes at me. "Girl. You can't keep me hanging here like this. Just spit it out. Whatever it is, I won't judge."

I take a deep breath. If there's anyone I can trust, it's Piper. "My orderly. Percy."

"The one that caught us out here?"

I nod. "Yeah. Well, he might have...we might have...well, he came into my room, and then we were talking, and then we almost kissed, and I'm just so confused." The words flood out in an unstoppable flood. I slide my head into my hands, pushing my fingers through my hair.

Piper quickly clamps her mouth shut. It must have opened at some point. "Wait. You almost kissed your orderly?"

"It's wrong, yeah. But, the thing is, in that moment I _wanted_ to. Like, really badly." I look at her through the cracks between my fingers. She puts her hand on my shoulder. I pull my hands off of my face.

"Annabeth. You said _in that moment_. Does that mean you wouldn't do it again? Like, now?" She has an unreadable expression on her face.

I shrug my shoulders, twisting my sweaty thumbs around each other. "I mean...I don't know. Yes? Maybe." I groan inwardly. What am I supposed to say? Piper grins.

"Well, personally, I ship it." I feel a sudden wave of gratitude for Piper. Any of my old friends, the one from before the Home, would have done anything but respond like that.

"Again?" A voice sounds from behind us. A voice I can now associate with green, green eyes and the taste of salty skin. Wait. Where did that come from? Nothing ever actually happened between us, did it?

I turn to see Percy standing in my room, his dark hair wonderfully tousled like he just got out of bed. Behind him stands an orderly I've seen once or twice. Piper slips down into the room and I follow her. The orderly with Percy speaks. "Oh, McLean. Up to no good again?"

"Shut up, Grover," she says, but she's grinning. She wriggles her eyebrows at Percy before leaving the room.

I stand awkwardly next to the window. Neither of us says anything. The silence just continues to grow, further and further, until we're miles apart. Then he talks, and we're two feet away from each other again. "How are you doing, Annabeth?" He sounds almost sad.

I snort, trying to sound snarky, but my heart isn't in it. It comes out more like a sigh. "That's all? Just asking how I am?"

His easygoing facade melts away, an his shoulders sag forwards. He stays silent, so I speak. "I'm sorry," I tell him, though I don't know why. Sorry for what? _For almost kissing him._

"For what?" His voice sounds careful. "Because it's fine, I understand that you were drunk, and -" I cut him off, my heart racing in my wrists and neck.

"What? What happened when I...when we were driving back?" I try to remember something, anything. All I remember is getting in the car and waking up in my bed in the Home. That, and then, a pair of green eyes right before mine.

He looks uncomfortable. I don't blame him. "Oh. Never mind,'' he turns away from me to leave. I hurry forwards and grab his wrist to keep him from leaving. We both freeze, and his eyes flick from where my hand holds his arm to my face.

"Tell me," I say, and my voice sounds small.

He sighs. "You just...tried to kiss me," he says, and won't meet my eyes. I let go of his wrist and step back. I am so stupid, so careless. The worst.

"I'm sorry," I say again, and this time, I don't try to stop him when he leaves the room. Instead, I let the door close, I let the empty air close in around me, and wish that it could just suffocate me.

* * *

 **Percy**

Grover sits next to me, pushing his heels into the floor so his chair balances precariously on only the back two legs. We sit next to each other on the back porch of the Home. I try to focus on our conversation, anything but the panicked look that lit up Annabeth's face when I left the room, anything but the bit of conversation I heard before Grover and I got the girls off of the roof.

 _She said she'd kiss you again,_ says the voice in my head. I wish it would shut up. _She wants you Percy, and you want her back. Is it really such a bad thing?_ I tighten my jaw. I can't, for so many different reasons.

She's only seventeen. She's still in high school. I feel sick just thinking about it. There must be something wrong with me, to want her like that.

She's my _patient._ My job is to look after her, and make sure she stays in line. But nothing more than that. Never anything other than that. Not even friends, acquaintances at best.

But even so, the images of her flash behind my eyes and I close them to invite them to swell to instant clarity. Annabeth, standing in her room after the phone call from Frederick, her long legs bare, her tan shoulders in view, her stomach open to the air. Annabeth wrapped in a towel on her bed, gray eyes wide, her hand clamped onto mine. Annabeth swinging herself onto my lap and pressing her lips along my jawline. _Stop it, you sicko,_ I think, feeling very much like I might puke.

But her image is burned into my mind, and even the wind along my neck feels like the ghost of her lips. A twisting feeling in my gut causes me to tighten my grip on the armrests of the chair until my knuckles go white.

"So, dude," Grover says, balancing on the back two legs of his chair. A half-empty bag of chips settles in the curve of his waist and legs, and his fingertips are stained slightly orange.

I lift an eyebrow at him. "Yes?"

He grins a bit, flashing his endearingly crooked teeth. "Since it's our night off, you want to go out somewhere?" His chair skids on the floor and clunks back down to settling on four legs. He pops an alarmingly red chip into his mouth.

"Sure," I say, absentmindedly. The sky has slowly but surely filled with clouds, in the _exact_ color of Annabeth's eyes. What am I getting myself into?

Grover clears his throat. "Excuse me? Dreamy eyes over there?"

"What?" I say, knowing how idiotic I must look and sound.

He rolls his eyes at me and continues to eat his unusually pigmented snacks. "I asked if you knew any good places to go out around here."

I shake my head. "No, I don't."

Grover tosses the now empty purple chip bag to the ground. "We'll find a place," he says. "You have a fake ID, right?"

I cast him a disapproving look out of the corner of my eye. "Yes," I say flatly. I've only ever used it once, and only got it to use that one time.

"We are about to have a good time tonight," he says. "A better time than staying here with all the crazies, that is."

"They are not _crazies_ ," I snap, before I can stop myself. Grover looks at me in surprise. "I mean, not all of them," I quickly add.

He gives me a long look. "If you say so."

* * *

 **Sorry, it's been a while!**

 **But I am back so hooray. I am trying to actually work on these stories I'm starting, but it is a lot a lot of work. I wrote two chapters for different stories today, and I am all out of both idea and muse. This one is a little shorter as a result, but it is a necessary set-up chapter for the one that comes next. Be prepared for some funny business, some Jiper, more Grover, and maybe even a ~different~ Percy.**

 **And also, a guest appearance by a golden haired troublemaker.**

 **I don't own the characters, just the plot, yadda yadda.**

 **Happy Fourth of July to all of the Americans out there!**

 **Until next time.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Annabeth**

I don't know what I should be doing - sleeping, fretting, or both. I lay on the twin bed in my room, eyes trained on the shadowed ceiling. Sleep would do me good. I feel like absolute shit, and probably look the part too. I sigh and press my cheek further into my pillow, trying to pretend I am at home, and Dad hasn't married yet, and I am not such a screw up. I can pretend that it's not me who shattered our peaceful family.

But it is.

My fingers creep across the sheets, as if searching for pills or drinks on their own accord. Nothing, of course. I debate whether or not to stand and retrieve a cigarette from where I've hidden a few packs in my drawer.

Suddenly, my door bangs open and my room floods with the harsh blue light from the hallway. "What the fu-" I start, but a hand clamps over my mouth. As my eyes adjust to the brightness, I catch a sight of familiar multicolored eyes.

Piper removes her hand from my mouth. "Keep it down, Annabeth," she says, shutting my door again and clicking on my lamp. I take note of her short, sequined skirt, the plunging neckline of her tight top, and her platform heels. All clothes that used to sit in my closet. Her eyes are lined dramatically in black and glitter.

"Piper, what are you doing?" I sigh, exasperated.

She grins. "You mean, what are _we_ doing?" She tosses her shiny brown hair over one shoulder. "The answer, my friend, is sneaking out of this wretched place for a night. Get up." She grabs my hands and pulls my into a sitting position. She nudges a bag on the floor with her toe. "Now put something o and let me do your makeup."

I'm so tired. The last thing I want to do is go out. But, at the same time, I won't be able to sleep anyways, fretting so much about the whole I-basically-forced-myself-on-my-orderly-while-high-and-drunk thing. I reluctantly slide from my sheets, out of the comfort of my warm bed. "Fine," I tell her, and slip on the first thing from the top of the pile.

It ends up being one of my old dresses, scandalously short and form fitting, in the exact gray color of my eyes. Piper clicks her tongue at me and I slip on a pair of heels as well. "Good," she says. "Now sit."

It's almost therapeutic, letting Piper smear makeup across my face. I barely follow what she's doing, but catch a glance at myself in the mirror when she's finished. I look like the old Annabeth, the one I left behind when I came to the home. Gray eyes surrounded by smudges of dark shadow, lashes dark and long, skin smoothed to perfection, lips stained a dramatic color. "Thanks, Pipes," I say quietly.

"Come on," she says. We leave my room, and I realize I have exactly no idea how she plans to sneak out. Jason meets us outside the door. I lift my eyebrow at him but say nothing. Security here is insane. An orderly on the night shift stands at the top of the stairs. Piper marches straight over to him and taps his shoulder.

He looks up at her, clearly startled. Piper smiles sweetly. "Hello, there," she says. "We were never here, correct?"

The orderly squirms uncomfortably. "You really shouldn't be out-" he starts, but Piper cuts him off.

"I will spill to Hera that you were smoking on the grounds, and hell, maybe I'll make up some other shit too." Her tone is sugary but her eyes are narrowed. Piper is dead serious.

His shoulders slouch forwards. "Fine. Just this once."

Piper beams at him. "Lovely! I knew you'd come in handy."

* * *

After an Uber ride, Piper has brought us to a club. How she knew where it was is beyond me, but I am glad to be here. My fatigue forgotten, it should be easy to get my hands on a drink. We slip in easily with a large group, and I feel the familiar pounding of the beat in my veins, echoing in my bones. Piper screams something in my ear about dancing, grabs Jason, and slips into the writhing mass of dancers on the floor.

I beeline quickly to the bar and order six shots. I tap my fingers anxiously along the counter as I wait. Getting drunk is a reprieve. I don't want to be myself anymore. I wish I wasn't. But I can't erase my choices. The drinks are poured, and I down all three without taking a breath in between. Give it a few minutes, and I'll be completely buzzed.

A hand lands on my waist. I turn to see a golden haired boy standing behind me, tall and handsome with kind blue eyes. "Looks like you can hod your own," he says, lifting is eyebrows like he's impressed.

"I can," I tell him, lifting my chin.

He grins. "Want to dance?"

I nod and let him pull me to the dance floor. "I'm Luke," he says.

"Annabeth," I reply. We have pushed our way into the center of the throng of dancers. Luke pulls my hips back to meet his, and I let myself get lost in the music, in the dark bar, in the feeling of Luke's body against mine. I don't know how long it's been, but everything is already dulling, and I can tell the drinks are kicking in.

I feel hot breath against my neck and turn to see Luke's face hovering next to mine. He takes a deep inhale. "You smell sweet," he tells me.

I give him a lazy smile. "So do you," I reply. He does, a bit - he smells like soap and whiskey. He wraps soft fingers around my chin and lifts my chin so my lips brush his. I let out a small gasp, and it seems to encourage him, because he presses his mouth fully to mine.

My thoughts instantly go to the image of dark hair and green eyes, the memory of his lips almost meeting mine. _No. He doesn't matter._ I press my lips urgently to his, wishing to push all thoughts of Percy from my mind. He doesn't matter, and even if he does, I will force him to stop crossing my mind.

I reach my arms up and wrap them around his neck. His tongue slides along my lower lip, and I open my mouth. He tilts his head to gain better access to my mouth, and I am barely aware of the fact that I am leaning backwards, supported almost completely by his arms around me. I open my eyes a crack, and my blood runs cold when I meet a familiar pair of sea green eyes across the room.

* * *

 **Percy**

The club has never really been my scene. Grover immediately found a pretty girl with long red hair wearing a light green dress to dance with. I let the drink in my hand sit mostly untouched. Every time I see a flash of blonde hair, I catch my breath. But it's never her. Why would it be? She is back at the Home. I grudgingly let myself take a long sip of the drink Grover ordered for me. It's too strong for my liking, and burns on the way down.

I kind of wish I had never come tonight. It would be better to be at the Home, doing something to distract me from the images that keep sliding into my mind, all featuring a certain gray-eyed girl. _Stop it, you sicko,_ sneers the voice in my head. She's seventeen, for God's sake. There must be something wrong with me.

I grit my teeth. I can't just stand here and let my thoughts take me. I peer into the mass of dancers on the floor, downing the rest of my drink. My eyes cling to a couple at the center of the floor, a blonde boy and girl pressed impossibly close together. My heart begins to beat faster. The boy's hands slide across the girl's short gray dress, and I can't help but to notice that it is the precise gray of Annabeth's eyes.

Then they begin to kiss, and I feel sick for some reason. His hands slide across her form, fitting into her curves and tracing patterns on the skin just below the hem of her dress. I step a bit closer, but it feels fake, as if I'm dreaming. The girl's eyes open and meet mine.

Gray eyes. Gray eyes the color of storm clouds just before it rains.

Annabeth's eyes.

I feel sick to my stomach. I don't notice that I'm pushing through the crowd until I am right next to them. Annabeth breaks away from the boy, and he turns to face me. Seeing her lipstick on his face makes my hands shake. What is she doing here? Who is he? What does she think she's doing?

"Hey, man-" starts the blonde boy. I don't remember making my fist, but it connects with his jaw and send him stumbling back, eyes narrowed with anger.

I grab Annabeth's arm. "Stay away from her," I tell him. My voice doesn't sound like it usually does. It is cold and low and completely without humor.

He scowls at me. "She was enjoying it," he snaps. "She kissed me back. Let go of her."

White hot rage laces through my veins. "If you lay another finger on her," I say, carefully enunciating each word, "I will kill you." I turn to Annabeth. Her eyes are slightly glazed. "Come on," I tell her. "We're leaving."

I drag her from the dance floor and out into the cool night. She stumbles along next to me. I feel the tightness in my own muscles and attempt to relax them. It doesn't work. I lead her into the alleyway next to the club and let her lean against the brick wall. "What the hell were you doing there?" I ask her.

"Dancing." Her voice isn't as slurred as I thought it would be, but she is clearly drunk. I feel another flash of anger.

"Fuck, Annabeth," I begin. "You are at the Home _for a reason_. To get better! You clearly don't care about it, or anything, or even yourself, because if you even cared a little bit about your own damn wellbeing you wouldn't be so reckless!" The words explode from my mouth before I can stop them, and the tide of anger isn't yet over. "Do you wonder why your family sent you back? Because you're clearly still addicted to it all, Annabeth. You can criminalize them, but you need help, so just _let me fucking help you_!" I'm breathing hard now. So is she. I try hard not to look at how well the dress fits her, to not chance a glance at the smooth skin of her bared thighs.

Her eyes glitter, and for a moment, I think it's anger. But it's tears. Guilt surges through me. "I know," she hiccups. "It's my fault. It all is. And I know...I-I'm fucked up, and my dad hates me for it, and believe me, I hate myself more than anyone else."

"No," I tell her. "He doesn't hate you, or he wouldn't keep calling to make sure you're improving. Every day, Annabeth. And you can improve. I want to help you."

She tries to say something, but it turns into sobs and more tears. She looks so helpless. I itch to shove her to the brick wall, to let my hand explore the expanse of her short dress, to claim her lips with mine. But I won't.

"I don't hate you," I tell her, and pull her into an embrace instead.

* * *

 **There's probably tons of mistakes and this chapter sucks, but I've been awake for 19 hours and I'm tired. That's my excuse.**

 **I love Canada.**

 **Good night.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Annabeth**

I wake up to sunlight streaming in through the window and a tray on my nightstand. I prop myself up on my elbow and groan as a headache rolls through my head.

Oh yeah. I'm hungover.

I look over the contents of the tray. A still-hot mug of tea and two plastic cups with pills in them. On closer examination, one cup holds the antidepressants Hera decided I need, and the other holds ibuprofen. A feeling of warmth spreads through my chest. Percy must have left these here, because Hera never would have. I pop the pills into my mouth and wash them down with the tea. It's chamomile - one of my favorites.

I slide out of my bed and catch sight of myself in the mirror. I can't help but to gasp; I wear the same dress as I did last night, but now it is wrinkled and clings awkwardly to my skin. Makeup has formed dark circles like a raccoon's mask around my eyes. I avert my eyes from the awful reflection and shed the dress immediately, kicking it under the bed. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

The shower scalds my skin but I don't adjust the temperature. I make extra care to wash my face thoroughly, ridding it of the reminders of last night. I shiver as Percy's words echo in my ears: _Do you wonder why your family sent you back? Because you're clearly still addicted to it all, Annabeth._

He's right, of course. I'm a fucking addict.

I get out of the shower and toss my dripping hair into a quick french braid that trails bits of water down my spine. It's almost a relief to put on the Home's fresh, clean clothes. They aren't fashionable, but they're better than the dress.

The door swings open and I jump. Percy stands in the doorway, dark shadows circling his eyes. It looks like he slept on his hair and didn't bother to brush it when he woke up. Even so, the bright green of his eyes causes the pulse in my throat to quicken. _Stop it,_ I scold myself.

"Hera wants you downstairs for Circle," is all he says. We walk downstairs to the first floor in silence, and I can't help but to replay his words again and again. _You are at the Home_ for a reason. _To get better!_

I decide to make more of an effort on doing what I came here to do. We reach Circle and I sit down in the first chair I see, next to Hazel and another empty seat. Percy disappears again. I try not to look disappointed.

Hera's beady eyes find me. She smiles an artificial looking grin. "Annabeth! How are you this morning?"

I swallow down my distaste. I need to make an effort. I know I will not be able to smile, so I settle for not scowling as I reply. "Good. Thanks for asking."

Okay. It may have sounded a little bit sarcastic.

The other kids shuffle in and sit in the rough circle of chairs. Piper sits on my left, holding her hand to her forehead as she casts me a look from the corner of her eye. Her orderly must not have given her painkillers. I feel appreciation for Percy course through my veins, and feel suddenly very agreeable. I notice the corner of a hickey sticking out from the collar of her shirt but choose not to comment on it.

"Let's begin," says Hera when everyone is settled. "We're doing partner activities today."

I cast a hopeful glance at Piper before Hera's voice cuts through the room. "I have taken the time to arrange partners for you!"

I groan inwardly. Hazel, small as she already is, seems to shrink further in on herself. I feel a flash of pity for the younger girl. Hera speaks again. "Piper darling, you'll go with Jason." Piper casts a sly glance at me before sauntering over to the blonde. His cheeks flush slightly and I grin. "Hazel, you'll be with Frank. Nico and Leo, together please. And Annabeth..." she sighs and looks around the circle at the three pairs. "We'll put you with an orderly."

I don't know whether or not I'm hoping for her to put me with Percy. "Jackson!" Hera calls. "Come partner up with Annabeth."

Jackson. Is that his last name? It must be, because he slides into the chair next to mine. He doesn't meet my eyes. He must be angry with me. I don't blame him. I've done nothing but act like a bitch around him. Oh, yeah, I basically forced myself on him too.

I feel instantly terrible for him. He's been nothing but good to me. "Okay. Talk with your partner about your current struggles."

"Oh," I sigh.

Percy's mouth tightens. "You go first."

"Um, well...I need to lay off of...alcohol, and cigs, and other things." I groan. "God, why does this feel so damn corny?"

"Because it is." He's smiling a little bit now. I smile too. Maybe this exercise won't be as bland as I'd feared. Maybe he's not even mad at me.

 _If he isn't, he should be,_ I think. And there is something off about his smile, and his sea green eyes still drift from his knotted hands to the floor to the ceiling, everywhere but me.

I shiver.

* * *

 **Percy**

I'm so, so tired. Any chance I had at sleep last night disappeared after I left Annabeth in her room, curled into her sheets with her blonde curls spiraling her head like a halo. I'd had to leave as fast as I could before I did something I would regret.

The entire night, the memory of Annabeth pressed up against the random guy at the club had released the most awful torrent of jealousy I've ever felt. Knowing that he got to touch her, kiss her, do what he wanted with her, and there be no consequence? It made my blood boil. Even though I knew she was safely tucked away in her room - I'd kept checking on her - the agitation never ceased. I eventually let myself just wander the grounds, letting my footsteps echo in the silence, let myself succumb to another sleepless night.

I shouldn't be letting anything get in the way of my thoughts for maintaining and keeping this job, making money to support my mom with. But the prospect of quitting and taking Annabeth and getting out of here is almost too good to not fantasize over - just thinking of it makes me giddy.

But I never could. It's an idea and nothing more. I need the money. I need to keep Mom safe and healthy and alive.

I sigh and lean against the handle of my mop. Cleaning duty is the worst, especially when I'm low on sleep. The floors already look spotless, so there's barely a point. Still, I can't be caught slacking. I need this job.

Thank the Gods it's dinnertime. I leave the mop in a nearby broom closet and head to the kitchens to pick up Annabeth's dinner. Each week cycles through the exact same meals on their assigned days. Today, it's a small bowl of broccoli and cheddar soup with a tuna melt. And water, of course. Always water. Hera hates to see anyone drinking anything but.

I make my way up to her room, my pulse in my throat. I didn't make eye contact with her at all today, too afraid that I would see something, anything in those gray orbs. Afraid, also, that my self control would become as fleeting as it had been last night.

I knock on her door with my elbow; my hands are full. She pulls it open, her cheeks flushed, wearing a pair of the Home's simple white cotton shorts and a plain gray tank top.

"Dinner," I say, unnecessarily. I look down at the tray in my hands instead of into her eyes, because if I see them, I know there will be nothing I can do - I am so glad to have the stupid tray in my hands, because without it I'm not sure what I would do with them. She lets me in and shuts the door behind me with a soft _click._

I walk in and set the tray on her bedside stand and quickly turn away, needing to leave as soon as possible, before she can say anything -

"Hey," she says. I can't help it. I pause mid step.

I turn to face her again, and let my eyes stick to the floorboards. "Yes?" Even to me, my voice sounds tight.

In my periphery, she recoils slightly. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry," she tells me.

Sorry? _She's_ sorry? I'm the one who should be sorry, for feeling this way around her. _My patient!_ A choking laugh rises in my throat and comes out as a rasping cough. "For what?" I ask.

I watch her take one, two steps forwards. "I've been awful," Annabeth says. I am glad I'm looking at the floor so I don't have to see her perfect lips forming the words. "I've also never really thanked you for anything you've done for me, which is a lot, to be honest with you." She pauses for a moment. "Hey, look at me."

And before I can react, her narrow, cool fingers wrap around my chin and our eyes lock. My breath catches in my throat, because her eyes are wide and the most perfect gray, and her lips are slightly parted, her cheeks pinked by the warm air. "You don't need to apologize." My voice is rough. "I'm the one who should be sorry," I tell her, the words jumping from my lips as if they have a life of their own.

"Why would you be sorry?" Her eyebrows are pulled together, he head slightly tilted to the right.

I force a breath from my lungs. "Sorry for feeling the way that I do."

She takes a sharp breath, and I flinch. Now is when she will scream at me to get out, to report me to Hera, to make sure I am never hired again..."Feeling the way that you do?" Her voice is soft.

I groan. "Gods, Annabeth, can't you see that it's killing me? I can't pretend it's fine because it's not, and it never will be for me. I just...I'm trying so hard just to _resist_..." The torrent of words flood from my mouth. I really wish I could take them all back. I swear I do.

"Then don't," she says quietly, and her voice is slightly nervous. Those two words. Any resolve, any self control I still harbor, washes away like footprints on a beach. I don't remember moving my hands, but they've tightened around her arms, and I've shoved her back against the wall. _I am -_

I silence her gasp with my lips, finally claiming her lips with my own. She tastes sweet, like cinnamon and faintly of toothpaste, and another flavor I can't quite identify with my head spinning like this. _I am -_

Her hands lift, sliding painstakingly slow along my back, tangling in my hair. She is soft against me, her mouth moving against mine in such a way that I can barely form any thoughts at all. _I am -_

I pin her to the wall with my arms, feel the pulse slamming in her throat as my lips dip to meet the velvety soft skin of her neck.

 _I am ruined._

* * *

 **Woah there guys let's keep it PG.**

 **Just kidding. Maybe.**

 **Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I was very very influenced by Lord of Shadows (book two in the Dark Artifices series by Cassandra Clare) to do the whole "I am ruined" thing. It seemed to fit his current mood. Man, Percy has some pent up emotions.**

 **So, I'm going to be away for the next two weeks starting Saturday! I will not have any access to the internet and will have no way to write this story while I am there. I may knock out another chapter tomorrow and upload it, but that is extremely unlikely. Don't have your heart set on it. Either way, I'll be back in August with a brand new spankin' chapter and maybe some other things too.**

 **Endless love for all of you! See you in two weeks.**


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